


Things that Work

by antigrav_vector



Series: Things I blame on the CapRBB slack [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Indiana Jones Series, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen or Pre-Slash, I blame CAPRBB slack chat, M/M, Mission Fic, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 00:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11521167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: Steve and Indy are on their way back to base from their first actual cooperative mission, and things arenotgoing well.... Or maybe they are.





	Things that Work

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to the denizens of the CapRBB slack chat, but in particular those who handed me the series of hilarious one-liners that made this bit of crackfic what it is: Rohkeutta, velvetjinx, albymangroves, and littleblackfox.
> 
> Posted unbeta'ed. Please forgive any remaining typos.

Steve still wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten to this point in his life.

"Damn it, Steve!" Indy was yelling at him, much like Bucky always had, as he picked himself up off the forest floor and tried to pick the pine needles out of his clothes, "having a snake on the plane does not mean you need to crash it!"

"I didn't have a lot of choice!" Steve growled back. "You distracted me with your yelling and screaming while we were trying to evade pursuit and right above the treetops! What did you _think_ was going to happen?"

"You _could_ have just thrown the snake _off the plane_ , Steve." Indy rolled his eyes. "I'd have taken the stick."

"Well, it's too late now. We'll just have to walk until we can steal a jeep or something." Steve was starting to lose his temper in earnest, now. At least the snake had vanished off into the underbrush, probably scared for its life, so that was no longer an issue.

Their small two-seater Stinson had lost half of its starboard wing, and the entirety of the other. The fuselage was ragged and mangled where the port side wing had sheared off. The engine had sputtered and died on impact with the ground, the propeller digging gouges in the soft dirt and taking chunks of treebark off the pines they skidded past. They'd both been thrown around in their seats when the plane had hit the ground, but luckily they were uninjured, save for some bruises.

Their mission had been a joint assignment, this time. Phillips had decided that he was tired of Steve dragging Indy back to base, apparently, making the tenth time Steve had crossed paths with this infuriatingly intriguing archaeology professor -- who Steve privately thought was far more at home out here in the wilderness with a gun than in front of a podium -- a far more cooperative effort than the previous ones had been.

Over the course of the mission, which they were running alone while the rest of the Howling Commandos ran interference for them, they'd gone from the somewhat wary truce they'd reached after the third time they'd run into one another, to something Steve could almost have counted as friendship. Nothing like what he had with Bucky, obviously, but it went beyond mere acquaintances, or what he had with work colleagues like Howard.

And now, the way things were going, they would have to work damned closely together to get back to base. The artifact in Indy's pack felt to Steve like he could sense the thing through all the layers of leather and cotton. It was a feeling somewhere between warm summer sunlight and pressure on his skin.

Breaking into Steve's thoughts, Indy grumbled something under his breath about Steve's apparently dubious parentage.

Steve ignored the commentary and took the opportunity to try to gauge which way was north using nothing but the rays of sunlight coming down through the canopy of the trees. "Come on, if we get moving, we should be able to get to the next town by nightfall."

"I'm more worried about our pursuit."

Steve huffed in what wasn't quite a laugh. "I punched out Hitler over 200 times," he replied, his tone dry, "I think the two of us can handle his goons."

"You pretended to punch out a stage actor," Indy corrected him, with a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "You faker."

A silence fell between them after that, as they started walking. Steve paused every few minutes to check that they were still going in the correct direction, but neither of them felt the need to speak. They managed to go for maybe half an hour before they started to hear the shouted orders in German that signified someone was on their trail.

Without having to do more than exchange a glance with Indy, Steve boosted him up into the nearest tree then tucked himself into the small thicket beneath it. It would be better for them if they could just let their pursuit pass them by. That would let them save their ammunition for any other resistance they met, or to supplement the meager amount of food in their packs. They hadn't brought much in the way of rations or camping gear, since they had to leave space in Indy's pack for his weapons and books, and Steve's shield harness made carrying a pack full of gear impractical. Either he could stow the shield or carry the pack, but not both.

Crouched in his hiding spot, Steve stayed as motionless as he could manage. Movement and noise were the biggest tells, in an environment like this. He didn't want to rustle the leaves of the plants he was hiding behind -- he thought it might be a blackberry bramble -- or crush any stray twigs under his feet. His shield, thankfully, wasn't very reflective, because of the special lacquer Howard had to use to paint it in the first place. It could still catch the light, but it wasn't as mirror-like as it had been when he'd first picked it up.

A brief breath of wind stirred the trees and carried along a puff of pollen that made Steve's noise itch. It smelled kind of nice but--

"'Choo!" Indy sneezed hard enough to almost send himself tumbling to the ground.

Steve winced as shouts went up from the German patrol that had stumbled across them, and stood, stepping out of his hiding spot as he readied his shield.

The moment Steve had it in position, bullets started pinging off it loudly and he suddenly had most of their focus. Indy dropped to the ground and took cover in what Steve thought might be a dry creekbed, shooting at the Germans every so often.

If Indy tried to say anything to him, Steve didn't hear it over the way his shield was ringing like a bell with every bullet. Taking in the arrangement of his opponents, he ducked behind a tree and flung his shield.

One by one, it hit five German patrol members and knocked them flat. Steve stepped out from behind his tree to catch his shield, as it sang through the air on the rebound. It smacked satisfyingly into his hand, and he glanced around to assess the damage he'd done to the patrol.

"Down!" Indy shouted at him, and was aiming seemingly at Steve.

Steve didn't question it. He dropped to the ground, covering his head and shoulders with his shield. The shot he expected to hear rang out before he'd managed to complete the movement, and could almost have sworn he felt the bullet part the air next to his head.

A moment later, Steve heard the thud of a body hitting the ground behind him.

Silence reigned again, as Indy reached down. Steve's hand automatically went around the inside of Indy's elbow, and he was hauled to his feet. "You know, you should try just shooting them," Indy commented. "Easier to make sure you don't miss one."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Steve replied, "My shield never runs out of bullets."

Laughing, Indy turned to face the direction they'd been heading before they'd gotten caught. "Come on, let's get out of here before their friends show up."

"Sure. And anyway, you're a fine one to talk, considering you fight with a damned bullwhip," Steve rejoined, but didn't refute the point. 

"Hey, now," Indy grinned. "It works. I don't question things that work."

Maybe, Steve thought to himself, they could be one of those things that worked.

But first they had to get back to the base.


End file.
